Filed to story: Reclaimed Book by Roxie Ray
His hands found my waist again, like they had last night in the kitchen. His gaze dropped to my lips as his fingers dug into my hips. The memory of last night’s kiss hummed through me, and for a moment I thought he was going to kiss me again, in the open, in front of his clan and Dylan.
He leaned down and brushed his lips across my forehead. “Drive safe.”
“I always do,” I murmured. The swoop of disappointment in my gut shocked me. I’d had one kiss, and now my body was begging for more.
Stephan stepped away and climbed the porch stairs. He stuck his head inside. “Hey, Striker, got time for a quick drive?”
“Sure,” a voice shouted from inside.
“I’ll have Striker follow you,” Stephan said. “Just to be safe.”
My nerves prickled the same way they had when he’d showed me the panic room. “I need an escort, now?”
“I like to be overcautious,” Stephan said. “He won’t bother you. Hell, he won’t even go into the grocery store.”
I sighed. “Fine. But just this once.” Then I turned toward the side yard. “Dylan, time to go.”
“Aw, already?” Dylan jogged around the house with Zoey hot on his heels. The dog’s tongue lolled out of her mouth, and she panted.
“I’ll see you later today, son.” Stephan pulled Dylan into a headlock and tousled his hair, making Dylan shout. I laughed. “Why don’t you pick up some treats for Zoey, too?”
“Augh! I will, I will! Let me go!”
Stephan released him with a chuckle, then Dylan grabbed him around the middle in a hard hug. Stephan exhaled a surprised breath and squeezed him back. “Everything all right?”
“Uh-huh.” Dylan’s voice was muffled into Stephan’s chest. “My dragon likes it.”
“Mine does, too,” Stephan said softly. “But you don’t want to keep your mom waiting, huh? Gotta get those treats.”
“Okay, fine.” Dylan stepped away, then bounced over to the car, full of renewed energy. “Come on, Mom, I want ice cream.”
“He’s worse than Zoey,” I said with a fond smile. “I’ll see you later today?”
Stephan nodded. “Counting down the minutes.”
It took a little more effort than I was willing to admit to myself to step away from him and get into the car, my heart thudding hard with every step.
As we drove, Dylan looked out the window. “Why was Dad at the clubhouse this morning?”
Only then did I realize I hadn’t even asked. Being so close to Stephan had distracted me. “Clan stuff, I guess,” I said. “Being the alpha is a lot of work.”
“He has to have a job and do work for the clan? Ew!”
I laughed. “Well, you’re an alpha too. You might have to do that one day, too.”
“Maybe if it was for my clan,” Dylan grumbled. “But having to do that and a job is a lot.”
“You’re telling me.” As I pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store, a dark, vintage car pulled up and parked nearby. That must’ve been Striker. But true to what Stephan had said, Striker remained in the car as we got out and went into the store.
Part of me thought it was ridiculous that Stephan had given us a security detail, but a larger part, and a part that was getting bigger and louder every day, was grateful that he was so meticulous about our safety.
Dylan grabbed a cart.
“All right, kiddo, we’re doing steaks tonight. Vegetable requests?”
“None!”
“Wrong answer.”
“Ugh! Mashed potatoes?”
“Something green too, please.”
Dylan blew a raspberry. “Those good roasted brussels sprouts?”
“The honey-glazed ones? Good idea.”
“Can I go pick out some treats for Zoey? And some ice cream for dessert?”
“Sure, but only one of each.”
“Okay.” Dylan darted off into the aisles. Thankfully, the grocery store was fairly quiet. Mid-morning wasn’t the most popular time to shop, and tourists didn’t frequent this store. I picked out some crisp vegetables and good-looking steaks for dinner. Maybe a bottle of wine would be a nice addition, too. Stephan had a few at the house, but his wine taste was admittedly not the best. If there was one thing I’d learned from my mother, it was how to pick out a good bottle of wine.
I wheeled the cart toward the wine section. Maybe a nice Malbec.
“Well, look who it is.”
Even after a decade, I recognized that nasally, catty voice. Blakely stood by the beer, six-pack in hand. She still wore her red hair in that short pixie, and she was still tall and lean, but there were new wrinkles on her forehead and the corners of her eyes, and her teeth weren’t looking so hot, either. I wasn’t surprised to find her in the booze section. She narrowed her eyes at me. “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here.”
“At the grocery store?”
“After what you did to me? Yes. This is my town. I live here. I don’t just show up and cause trouble.”
I sighed. Yeah, I could definitely do without the wine. “Just getting groceries for dinner. Let’s leave it at that.” I turned to walk away, but then Blakely grabbed my shoulder and wrenched me back around.
“You don’t get to turn your back on me,” she said with a sneer. “You owe me an apology. You ruined my life, you little bitch. You showed up here and made my whole family turn against me.”
I barked out a short, surprised laugh. “I’m the one who ruined your life? Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You think you’re better than me?-“
I had been more than prepared to walk away, but if Blakely insisted on getting into it, I wasn’t afraid to face her. Not when I was still so pissed about what she’d done. And she had the audacity to call me a bitch? “Blakely, you ruined your own life.
You thought those lies wouldn’t come back and bite you in the ass? You kept my son from his father for nine years.”
“Ace is supposed to be with me,” she hissed. “Ever since you came back, he’s ignored me, and now he won’t even look at me. You ruined everything!”
“If he wanted to be with you, he would be.” I shook my head. “You’re delusional. You got kicked out because you made shit up and fucked up our lives with your selfishness.”
“If you hadn’t showed up, this never would’ve happened!” Blakely lurched forward, like a half-aborted attack.
“Watch it!” I snapped, clenching my fist. If she wanted to try something, I’d lay her out.
“Mom? Are you okay?”
